Fallen Mage Regressor

The smell of clean fabric was in every direction. Pieces of clothing were hung up along poles in row after row. A moth flew next to a candle, evening having set in some time ago. And Mal stood at the end of one row, while Nima and Ekron stood on the other.

For one long second, neither side moved.

Mal was the first to break the stalemate.

Dozens of rope-like vines shattered the windows and sped straight for Nima and Ekron through the rows of clothing.

Nima grabbed the back of Ekron’s robes and pulled him out of the way, and the two sets of vines slammed into each other and entangled with one another.

Nima breathed hard. ”I wasn’t aware that you’d improved so much.”

”And how come you still have access to the plants?” Ekron pulled forward and out of Nima’s grip. ”We’re in the middle of a city.”

”Plants are very resourceful creature. What can I say?”

The entangling vines twitched. Nima held out his own hand and the sound of glass cracking filled the room.

Gone.

Mal shut his eyes and expanded Total Awareness.

He pivoted the vines toward a flicker and sensed that they’d hit their target. Two bodies hit the wooden floor with a hard thud.

Nima’s smile was strained at the edges, sweat dripped down his forehead and across his cheeks. ”How did you do that?”

”I need to keep some of my secrets, don’t I?”

The vines closed the distance for another attack. Ekron pulled out his wand and two blasts of Withering-type mana hit the column one after another. Instantaneously, they shriveled up and blackened and fell to the ground in a heap.

Mal clicked his tongue. He’d forgotten about that particular ability.

To Mal’s surprise, Ekron didn’t make another move to resurrect the plant to his own side.

It still takes time. He still has a limited toolkit. He can’t create any more of his thralls right now, Mal thought. Not instantly, at least.

The door at the back swung open.

Rolam stared at Mal, then at Nima and Ekron.

”Mal,” he said slowly. ”What am I looking at?”

”Why don’t you take a guess?” Nima rolled his eyes. ”Surely even you’re capable of that.”

Mal cut in and glared at Rolam.

”If you’re going to do something, now would be a good time.”

”In case you forgot, I didn’t bring along my sword,” Rolam said. ”I was under the impression that we were going on a shopping trip, not whatever this is supposed to be.”

”You once kicked a demon in the jaw. This is far from the most disadvantaged circumstances you’ve been through.”

Nima coughed. ”Last time, he also wasn’t facing up against the tenth vessel of the Bird-Eater’s cult.”

Rolam staggered back, eyes wide. ”Wait, they’re actually real?” He looked back at Nima and squinted. ”And wait, this honorable one thought you were in jail.”

Mal dropped his shoulders and looked at him. ”How did you not know the cult was real?”

”I mean, we did go on that weird little side quest with the rumors, but didn’t it all turn out to be fake?”

”I killed four demons.”

”You did?!” Rolam pointed at him. ”I knew you were full of crap!”

”This really isn’t the time to debate this, Rolam.”

A sudden screech.

”What are you idiots doing in my shop?!”

The old woman had strode out to follow Rolam. She was staring at the damaged windows. Her hands shook, her shoulders shook, and her eyes twitched like they were on the verge of bursting.

”I tire of this routine.” Nima squeezed his fist, and him and Ekron vanished from sight again.

Mal shut his eyes and sensed where they were. He kicked the ground and his Airgrass boots activated. His body shot forward at impossible speed. He brought his arm back for a punch and flesh met bone in a single strike. The illusion shattered, and Ekron tumbled backward and hit the floor. Mal’s Total Awareness pulsed, and he felt Nima behind him, gripping a dagger. Mal turned to try to parry—

Abruptly, Nima pivoted and brought his arms up for a block. A boot entered Mal’s Total Awareness and slammed against Nima’s forearm, and sent him skidding back a full several feet.

Rolam took up a position at Mal’s back. Mal remained locked on Ekron, who stumbled back to a standing position.

”Honored leader, I need a sword,” Rolam whispered.

”Rolam, how does a spellsword cast a spell?”

”They pass their mana through the weapon, similar to a wand. They then use the momentum of the blade to aid in shaping the spell.”

”Tell me, is an actual sword needed for that?”

”No, but metal is far more durable than any other alternatives. If you were to use wood, you’d need a whole storehouse of swords to keep up in a fight.”

Mal banged his elbow into Rolam’s ribs and gestured with his chin at their surroundings.

The clothing was hung up on rods, dozens of them. And there were more than a few hangers that were completely empty.

Rolam blinked, then immediately stepped to the side and slammed his palm into the middle of one of the racks. It snapped with a clean crack, and the hangers slipped off and fell to the ground.

”You’re paying for those damages!” the old woman squawked.

Nima rushed forward, and pulled a dagger from his side. Rolam picked up the rod and slashed down across his body diagonally.

A burst of green light came from the rod, and it shattered. At the same instant, a long crescent-shaped curve of energy came out of the ”blade” and toward Nima. Nima yelped and abruptly pivoted to dodge out of the way of the attack. Rolam took advantage of this to run forward and deliver a punch to Nima’s stomach.

A cough ripped out of Nima from the attack, and he staggered backward like a marionette with its strings cut.

”You know, despite it all—” Rolam’s shoulders sunk before they tensed again, fists clenched. ”—no, you made your decision.”

Nima laughed, lips curled into a smirk. ”What, feeling sad? Get it through your head, I was never your friend.”

Rolam grabbed another rod and shifted into a swordsman’s position. ”Fine. Prepare to face your end, cultist.”

Mal turned back to face Ekron, who’d stood up to his full length. He wiped his jaw.

”I still think that you would make a great vessel,” Ekron said.

Mal circled Ekron, passing between a row of clothing.

”And I think you’re a terrible one at the present moment,” Mal said. ”I’ll be honest, you don’t seem particularly enthused about all of this.”

Ekron laughed, the noise soft and unguarded. ”That’s because I’m not. Don’t tell the others, but I’ve never been a big believer in this whole New World order stuff.”

Mal stopped in his tracks. ”Then why are you with them?”

”My necromancy is innate. In my early years, it was uncontrollable. It was the other vessels who taught me how to use my abilities properly.” A glint of steel flashed in Ekron’s eyes. ”And for that, I’d give them anything.”

Mal fully stepped out from behind the rows of clothing. ”Just because they helped you in the past doesn’t make them good people.”

”No, it doesn’t, which is where someone like you would come in.” Ekron clasped his hands together. ”I’m not smart with words like you and Nima. All I’m good for is following orders. But you two could change the others’ minds.”

Mal felt something twist inside of his gut.

”I think you’re wrong about that,” he said.

Mal had met a handful of the other vessels. The ones he’d met were monsters—he really didn’t know any other way to describe them. Compared to them, his own crimes were downright minor.

But looking at the tenth vessel, and finally speaking to the boy one-on-one, Mal could see that he was the exception.

The twisting in Mal’s heart stopped.

Ekron had made his decision. He was a threat to Exodi City, to the academy, to the kingdom of Chama itself.

”I’m sorry.” And he meant it. He knew what it felt like to be trapped in a situation by circumstances beyond one’s control. Mal hadn’t wanted to go down the path he’d trod in the previous timeline, but it had seemed to be the only choice at the time.

But he’d been wrong that time, and Ekron was wrong this time.

Mal kicked his feet and his Airgrass boots activated again. His dagger unsheathed and he slashed through Ekron once more. Blood spewed from the wound, and Ekron looked down at it and tilted his head.

”You know that that doesn’t work on me, right?”

”What about this?”

Mal’s Fireglove activated and his dagger shrouded itself in flame. Mal stabbed Ekron in the chest before he could react and twisted the knife. Ekron stopped, then let out a long, pained gasp.

The wound tried to stitch back together around the knife, then stopped—the sinews and flesh having turned a charred black from the heat. Mal pulled out the knife and flicked it once to get the blood off. The skin continued to try to knit itself into one, but failed.

“Just as your withering type mana is a match for plant type, I believe that fire is a match for withering type,” Mal said.

Nima, who’d been engaged in combat with Rolam, suddenly stopped. Mal glanced back to look at him, and their eyes locked.

Mal stiffened. “Rolam, don’t let him—”

Before Mal could finish his sentence, Rolam had already vanished. With Total Awareness, he sensed Rolam taking the long path around him. Then, a flicker of steel caught his eyes from the left. Through sheer instinct, Mal raised his dagger for a parry.

That was all the time Nima needed. He reappeared and picked up Ekron.

Mal pointed his dagger at them. “You’re not getting away.”

The chances of something like this happening again were nil. Nima and Ekron wouldn’t underestimate the church a second time. Mal had to take advantage of this opportunity.

“There’s only one issue,” Nima said. “With your little plan, I mean.”

“And what’s that?”

Rolam stepped up to Mal’s side, snapped wood rod handle in hand. “I don’t really know what’s happening, but what Mal said. We’re gonna kick your asses.”

Nima looked over at the candle, one of the sources of light that had been illuminating their fight. Next to it, a moth had fallen to its apparent death.

Mal looked at it a bit closer and noticed something—a thin stream of black, withering-type mana slowly going into it. He looked back at his plants, and his heart thumped in his chest.

“This entire fight—?”

“Yes.”

Mal rushed forward and kicked the ground with his Airgrass boots. At the same instant, Rolam slashed out with his rod, and it snapped apart in his hand, but not before shooting a Viridian crescent beam of energy.

And then, abruptly, buzzing was heard just at the edge of Mal’s hearing.

In a split second, thousands of bugs streamed through an open window and in front of Mal and the crescent beam. The beam collided with the bugs with a flare of light and a burning meat smell. Mal forced himself to stop with a quick skid of his boots.

Mal activated his Fireglove and punched through it, only to meet nothing. He caught sight of Nima and Ekron through the gap created from his Fireglove, but before he could go after them, the bugs pivoted and changed direction toward Rolam.

Rolam had his spell sword attacks, but Mal didn’t know the capabilities of these resurrected bug creatures. His instincts warred in two directions until one finally won out.

He pivoted and ran back to Rolam.

Even as he ran, he screamed at himself inside of his mind.

What are you doing, you fool? They’re getting away!

His feet hit the wood and his dagger lit up with flame. He slashed through the cloud of bugs, lighting several of them up in one go. They backed away from him and Rolam and circled him in a sort of dome.

Mal’s heart pumped in his chest.

He barely had a moment to think before they came upon him from every direction.